The Chimera Tattoo
by Keith the Evil Dark Lord
Summary: Collection of one-shots revolving around the Alexis Lestrange series. Father's Day Special on second to last update!
1. The Chimera Tattoo

This is an explanation story to follow up in Alexis Lestrange and the Boy Who Lived when Chimera's are referenced on Christmas. If your confused or lost, I recommend reading said story first. I'll be putting up another chapter for it soon but this is a oneshot that maybe add to one of the later tales of Alexis

Enjoy!

* * *

There was a Chimera on Tom McPherson's back.

Not a real one of course, but a memory tattoo that moved across his skin freely, shrinking and expanding if he ever needed to hide it.

Not that he ever did hide it. Alexis had known about the tattoo her whole life, never questioning it after he told her what it was until late one Fall night while the two finished their reading session on the couch. McPherson had fallen into a very light sleep when she questioned him once more.

"Tom?" asked Alexis in a sweet voice only a seven year old could use.

"What is it, Hex?" McPherson replied, his eyes snapping wide open with alertness at the child's voice.

"I was just wondering, how did you get your tattoo?"

McPherson smiled, glad Alexis wasn't in any danger and had only been curious.

"I used a spell, Hex," he replied, sitting up. "It's not a normal tattoo, you know? It's a memory tattoo."

"A memory tattoo?" the seven year old inquired, pulling herself onto her guardian's lap and forgetting her book.

"Yep. See I place memories in it so know one can read them, that includes you, you little mind reader," McPherson teased, tickling the now giggling Alexis.

"Am I in some of those memories?"

"You're most of them, Alexis."

Alexis looked down at the tattoo on McPherson. It had moved to his chest, seeing that his back was leaning against the couch. The Chimera was mostly a amber red with gold, at least the lion and the goat were, but the snake was a dark green that reminded Alexis of the forest at night.

"Why is the shadow so big?"

"That's where my bad memories go."

"Oh... Am I in the bad memories, Tom?"

McPherson grinned before shaking his head, "Of course not, Hex."

"Can I get one?" Alexis yawned.

"One what?"

"A tattoo."

McPherson laughed again before picking Alexis up and carrying her towards the stairs.

"When you're older," he said. "As long as you get a Chimera."

"Why a Chimera, Tom?" Alexis asked through another yawn.

"Because it's your talisman, your kindred spirit, if you want to be fancy. Yours and mine, Hex."

"But why?" Alexis asked as McPherson placed her on her bed.

"Because it symbolizes you, your personality." When Alexis gave him a confused look, he continued, "Loyal and Brave like a Lion, Silver-tongued, and ready to Lead like a Snake..."

"But what about the Goat, Tom?"

Tom smiled at her kindly, "Willing to make the ultimate sacrifice, like the Goat."

* * *

Hope that helps clear things up and gives you an idea of Tom and Alexis's relationship!

Tell me what you think!


	2. Grin and Bare It

This is a one shot in Harry's point of view from the Alexis Lestrange series.

* * *

He didn't exactly know how or even when he started seeing her as something other than just a best friend. And he hadn't admitted it openly to anyone until third year when he and the rest of his roommates had been playing a Wizard form of Truth or Dare. The player would be forced to tell their Truth or complete their Dare if they didn't want to be hanging by their ankles for three hours, and Harry, after seeing Neville complete a rather gruesome dare, Seamus had dared him to eat an entire box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans all at once, had decided to test his luck with Truth.

He should have known better than to trust Ron with such a thing.

"Alright, Harry," Ron had chuckled, still laughing and looking sympathetically at the same time towards Neville who looked rather green, "tell us which witch takes your fancy."

"Nice one, Ron," Dean had snickered while Seamus had buried his head into his pillow so not to laugh in Harry's face.

Harry hadn't quite known what to say but apparently that hadn't mattered to the game. When the first Err had escaped his lips, Harry found himself hanging upside down by his ankles.

"No one!" Harry remembered shouting frantically, not particularly liking being upside down.

"Well, it has to be someone," chuckled Ron. "The game wouldn't hang you by your ankles if that were true."

"Hex!" Harry had shouted, frantically struggling with the invisible force that was holding him up. "I like Hex!"

With a flop, Harry had landed in an undignified head on his bed, his four roommates smirking at him.

"We already knew that, Ron," huffed Seamus. "Wasted Truth."

Harry had scowled than just as he had scowled when he finally admitted to liking his best friend to Hermione and had received the same answer.

_Everyone knows, Prongs_, Hermione had written in her letter to him over the summer. _We might have even known before you did._

Those words had made Harry wonder when he had started liking his best friend. He thought, perhaps it had been the summer before third year when she had promised to run away with him. That, of course, hadn't been a romantic gesture but rather an act of pure friendship when she had willingly agreed to hide from the Ministry with him, one that he would never forget as much as he would never forget when she had knocked his uncle on his rear with one finger.

There was also the chance that his feeling had changed for her during their second year. When he had seen her lying motionless in the Chamber of Secrets his stomach had knotted so badly and his desire to vomit had reached a point he hadn't even known existed and when she had finally showed a sign of life he had been ready to cry out in joy.

He also remembered how safe he had felt having her at his side when the went to protect the Stone from Snape and how brave he had felt when she had joined him in protecting the Stone from the actual villain, Quirrell with Voldemort's face on the back of his head. She had promised to protect him and he, though he had failed to say it out loud, had made the same promise back to her.

Then, of course, there was the time she had kissed him but that had been because Peeves had trapped them underneath a magical mistletoe and it was the only way to break its spell. Still, the soft peck had made him blush profusely and he hadn't been able to see her as 'one of the guys' much after that.

Whenever his feelings for her had changed, Harry still felt them even now as he watched Hermione drag her out of Hagrid's hut and back to the castle to get ready for the dance. Hagrid winked knowingly at her, a wink he had been getting a lot from his guy friends, especially the twins, whenever he was caught staring at her.

Sirius had probably been the worst but Remus was definitely a close second. The sneaky werewolf had asked him very cunningly when he was going to ask her to Hogsmeade in which Harry replied he would if he had gotten his permission form signed. Remus had grinned wolfishly at him when he had started stuttering in attempts to retract his statement without insulting his best friend.

"Relax, Harry," Remus had said with a chuckle, "your father was as easy to read as you too."

That hadn't helped Harry one bit but it had still been better than the letter Sirius had written him right after he had returned to Privet Drive. Only Sirius could combined a letter that gave Harry permission to date his niece and give his godson 'the talk' onto several embarrassing pieces of parchment. Harry had personally made sure to burn said letter in the fire so there was no chance Dudley or his aunt and uncle could find it.

But Sirius hadn't stopped with the letter. He, along with the combined help of the twins and Hermione, had spent the whole summer working on a plan to help him get his dream girl and Harry, despite following all their directions, had blundered. His attempt to change his relationship with Alexis from best friends to something more by kissing her cheek had merely made them best friends who occasionally kissed each other's cheeks.

"Well, you could always try making her jealous," George had offered from the third year dormitory door with Fred while said best friend was off serving detention with Moody. Hermione had taken her usual spot on the edge of his bed while Seamus and Dean grinned like idiots. Harry still didn't know why the two had been added to, as the twins had come to calling it, the Postrange Mission to get him and Hex together. He wasn't even sure why _he_ had joined.

"You do know she wants me and Harry to get together, right?" Hermione huffed. Harry heard Fred mumble something unpleasant under his breath before wholeheartedly disagreeing with his twin's plan.

"Well, you better think of something, mate," Seamus had chuckled, "because someone else might beat you to it."

And someone had. By the time Harry had built the courage to ask her to the Yule Ball it had been too late.

Even worse, Alexis _still_ thought he only liked her as a friend.

Actually, perhaps the worst part about his relationship status with Alexis not changing was the fact that she was asking for his help in sneaking out to see the boy that had been quicker than him in asking her to the ball. It had bothered him to an almost agonizing amount, even without everyone else trying to give him their sympathy, but the crushing feeling was almost worth it whenever Alexis would sneak up to his dormitory afterwards and give him a kiss on the cheek in thanks before returning his Invisibility Cloak.

Almost.

He had felt bad for Luna when they had met in the Entrance Hall before the ball. His eyes had been scanning the hall for his best friend the moment he had arrived and it wasn't until Luna told him that Alexis would have been luckier than a Raxacoricofallapatorian in a giant, fat suit if she had gone with him did Harry realize how rude he was being.

"You look pretty," were the words he had fumbled together in attempts to make up for ignoring his date. "I like your... dress."

Luna had merely smiled at him and asked if he knew she had only came with him as a friend and nothing more. It had made Harry and Luna laugh, no doubt helping their friendship grow, but the laughter had died the moment Lee Jordan had drawn their attention.

"Would you look at that!" he had cried, pointing towards the stairs.

Harry's eyes had followed his fellow Gryffindor's finger and his breath had hitched with what he had saw. He had never seen a princess before, unless you counted the ones in pictures from the books he had read as a kid, nor had he ever seen a pair of genuine witch dress robes, but Alexis seemed to have combined the two as she walked down the Grand Staircase in her red and gold robes making her look exactly how Harry would have expected a Gryffindor Princess to look.

She had rolled her eyes, twice, an action that was very Hexlike, but had somehow managed to steal the attention of every boy in the Great Hall. And when she had approached Harry, the realization of his tongue tying into a thousand knots had hit him a little too late.

"Hell, Hex," Cedric had said, approaching her. "You just made half the school's jaws drop."

Harry was barely able to mumble anything before Viktor Krum had come over to retrieve his date. He had watched with curiosity and a small amount of envy as the Durmstrang Champion gave _his_ best friend a golden bracelet that had made his Christmas look like a cheap ball of string when Cedric had pulled him away to tell him what the bracelet meant.

The Famous Seeker had more or less asked Alexis to be his girlfriend. That news had dropped Harry's mood greatly but he had tried his best to put up a supportive best friend front for Alexis. He had danced with her, trying his best to tell her how he felt only to once again fall tongue tied, and have his complement brushed off as simply a nice thing best friends say to each other. When he had seen her run off after dancing with Swine he had taken off after her only to find Krum comforting her instead. He hadn't known their relationship had developed so much and it was while he was processing this that he had stumbled across Hagrid, Madame Maxime, and a familiar kind of beetle by the fountain.

After watching that relationship blunder, Harry had built up enough sense, or lack of, from watching two of his friends' feelings get hurt, to do the one thing he thought he had to do. Harry decided to confront Swine.

"What did you say to Hex?" Harry remembered hissing at the Auror when he had returned to the Great Hall. The ponytail hair man had looked at him with a bewildered expression, the only hint Harry had gotten that the man was drunk but otherwise acting normal.

"Something she already knew," Swine had scoffed, his eyes watching a particular one eyed teacher. "You know, for someone so observant, that girl doesn't see what's right in front of her."

Harry had subconsciously snorted in agreement before warning the Auror to stay away from his best friend. Swine's reply had merely been a request for him to keep his best friend away from Moody.

He had left the ball after that but not before Cedric advised him to take his golden egg to the Prefects bathroom. It had been a weird request, one Harry didn't very much care for as he walked Luna backed to her tower, but not one he was foolish enough to push out of his mind.

When he had finally stumbled back into his own Tower, Harry's mind, however, had returned to his best friend. He still didn't know how or when he had started seeing her as something other than just a best friend and he never thought he would. He did, however, know that he wished he could tell her. Unfortunately, he had a different role to fill than something-other-than-best-friend and that was, of course, being her best friend and brother in everything but blood.

And sometimes filling those roles involved doing the thing Harry knew he did best...

Grin and bare it.

* * *

Short one-shot of Harry's feelings towards Hex. This is mainly for **kaylee13133** and **phoenixfelicis07**. It has a small spoiler in it for chapter 21 but I hope you were able to figure out what the bracelet was before hand (I mean, Cedric had approved it. Krum had probably asked him for permission to date Hex) I hope the next chapter is up soon because I'll be really busy the next three weeks so fingers crossed!

Please tell me what you think!


	3. Rats Shouldn't Overlook Details

Rats Shouldn't Overlook Details

Peter Pettigrew

Third Year

* * *

He didn't know how he had overlooked the girl for the last two years and cursed himself for doing so. After all, it was clear as day who her mother was and that was enough to make him shake in fear at the sight of her despite the girl being twelve.

"When did you get a rat?" she had asked. The Weasley boy had called her Hex. When she reached for him he panicked, scurrying as quickly as he could back inside the youngest Weasley's pocket.

"And why doesn't it like me?"

Peter had laughed inwardly at that. It sound so frighteningly like her mother back in school it was comical. Back when she had been Trix and had liked the Marauders.

"Not all creatures have to like you, Hex," the Weasley had remarked but the look she, as well as Harry and the Muggleborn, had given him begged a differ. However, Peter didn't care.

He had to get away from _her, _Hex as they had called her. It was bad enough that Sirius had escaped Azkaban but now this Hex, this daughter of a ruthless she-devil, was close to him, close enough to make him feel very uneasy. He had tried to escape when the cat had attacked him in the pet store but Weasley and Harry had caught him. And then the Muggleborn had bought the bloody cat.

Life was not fair to Peter, not now nor before. Oh, it had started off well at first. He had been born into a loving Pureblood family with a mother who had an interest in cooking pastries. James and Sirius had let him join their little group and Remus had taken it upon himself to help him in school. He was well protected and loved at school but people don't stay at school all their life and that's when things started going down hill.

His mother died and his father followed soon after. The war was in full swing and people around him were dying. Peter was terrified. He didn't want to die. He had been captured by Deatheaters and then, after hours of torture under the Cruciatus Curse, instead of letting the Dark Lord kill him, a certain Lestrange née Black suggested the idea of making him a spy.

His future had been written from then on.

James and Lily's death, Sirius's imprisionment, Remus's self guilt, all of it had been because of his cowardliness and what he had wrongfully seen as mercy from Bellatrix Lestrange. He had thanked her, praised her for her mercy only for all this to happen. She was worst than the Dark Lord.

Now with her daughter in front of him, he was not expecting anything similar to mercy with how loyal the girl was to Harry. There had been a small flicker of hope when she had refused to help Sirius kill him that Tomas had gone dark like the papers had said and raised her to serve the Dark Lord, that all he had to do was prove he was going to help her bring back the Dark Lord, but that hope died the moment she stood defiantly up against Sirius, still thinking he was going to harm her friends.

"What's so funny?" Hex had growled.

"You're so much like her," Sirius had said, still laughing while Peter shook with fear. "Your mother. She used to be so protective to her family before... Before she took the Mark."

Memories of Trix Black, the excitable yet protective older cousin and friend to the Marauders was far from Peter's mind when he looked up at this Hex. He only saw Bellatrix, Bella to the Inner Circle and Bell's only to one, Lestrange with her insane glint in her eyes as she glared Sirius down. If only she hadn't attacked him head on like her mother too Peter might have had a chance escaping in the rumble.

Why did everything bad happen to him? Why couldn't he have been the brave one like Sirius and James or Remus? Why did he have to be so weak? Why was he such a coward?

When Harry arrived and found Sirius holding Hex captive another flicker of hope had filled him that perhaps Harry would act towards revenge and kill Sirius. Then, of course, Remus had arrived, crushing his hope once more. Even with the girl yelling at Remus Peter had known he was a lost cause and he had been right to think that for once Remus told her everything she was on his side in an instant, now working to convert Harry and the youngest Weasley.

The pleading look in Remus's eyes whenever he spoke to her was almost as noticeable as Sirius's when he spoke to Harry. The two wanted their trust so much and would have, sending Peter to what he knew would be an early grave. And Hex believed and understood everything Remus and Sirius said. She fought to protect them from Snape, she fought with her own friends just to give Remus a chance to prove he, Peter, was really a wizard and not a rat by returning him to his actual form and when he did...

She even swore like her mother.

Peter begged each of them for his life, imploring them to show forgiveness but just one look in her direction, just one measly glance, and Peter knew he would not find sympathy from her. If possible, she looked even more ready to kill him than Sirius and Remus. And then-

"STOP!"

He had only avoided death because she had willed it. Even Harry, Lily's son, had been willing to let him die for what he had done.

Then again... Bellatrix had also saved him from death only to give him a fate worst than it and sure enough, she did too. She offered sending him to Azkaban where the Deatheaters would be waiting for him and Peter knew he couldn't go there. He wouldn't survive that and his death would be worst than if Remus and Sirius had killed him. At least they would kill him quickly.

Perhaps she had known that.

That's why when Remus had begun transforming he had fought so frantically to get away. He had fought with the Weasley boy for the wand as his life depended on it because to Peter it did.

He hadn't meant...

He didn't mean to...

Just the girl's presence had sent Peter into a panic so as he wrestled for his life he acted out of desperation.

When he was in school, Sirius and James use to make fun of his aim even at close range. They use to say he couldn't hit the right side of a barn at yard's distance. But Peter wasn't in school anymore and for once his aim had been true.

The boy's name had been Ron. Peter remembered that. He remembered that he was the youngest of the cheerful redheaded family with so much potential and he had taken his name in their New Marauders. They called him Tails.

And Peter had killed him in fear just like he had given up James and Lily because he had been afraid.

The thought haunted. It left him in shambles every night as he tried to find sleep. Nightmares of all his sins resurfaced because of it and it only got worse when he found the Dark Lord wasting away in Albania. He should have run away but the game was set once again.

Peter's future had been written once again only this time it had been by the daughter... he really shouldn't have overlooked her for two years...

* * *

So I actually always liked Peter Pettigrew's character scheme. I mean, of all the characters in the canon, Peter is the most human of them all. He knows fear and it controls his life like most of society no days. He doesn't want to betray his friends but fear for his life changes that and sadly I feel like that's how it is for most people. We can say we would never betray our love ones but until we're put under the test we'll never know and Peter is a perfect example of someone reaching their breaking point. Sure he regrets it, as anyone would, but he knows he can't go back, which is what makes him such a tragic character and I love him for that. I mean, don't get me wrong, he's still a bad guy, but he's a more human bad guy than anyone of the others because he has regret which ultimately led to his death.

So in my not so humble opinion, I believe Peter is JK Rowling's most under appreciated well-developed characters beating even Snape because of Snape's massive popularity (Sirius- Snivellus, popular? Alexis- *snorts* Snivellus. Remus- *sighs while pinching his nose* honestly you two)

Tell me what you think!

Review!

DCF


	4. The Better Best Friend

The Better Best Friend

Carter Swine

The Beginning of Book Five

Firewhiskey was a very fitting name for the amber colored liquid. It burned going down the throat, it even singed a few nose hairs if you sniffed, and if you drank it too fast... well, it made an excellent party trick... if you call shooting flames out of your mouth a trick suitable a party full of drunks because it was, after all, still whiskey.

And whiskey was exactly what Carter was looking for.

He probably should have felt guilty for taking the firewhiskey when Molly was distracted. After all, she was worrying herself sick over what Remus had reported, though she was blaming her frustrations on Sirius leaving the house without permission.

But Carter didn't have much room for new guilt at the moment. In fact, if you asked him, he had plenty of guilt without adding that to the list. Fourteen years of living a lie can do that to someone.

By God, he had never been this sarcastic before! He had been the calm one, the one that was always focused and observing his surroundings. But his partner had balanced him out... his best friend... Tom...

Carter took his first sip of the firewhiskey. He leaned against the wall coughing quietly with a few waves of steam leaving his mouth.

"You're not supposed to drink it that fast," he chuckled coldly to himself, as if he were mimicking someone else's words, and he was, but it had been many, many years ago. Or had it only been a few? The last near fifteen years had gone by fast with him focusing only on his career that sometimes he forgot how long it had been, how much time had passed...

He too another swig. Molly would most definitely murder him if she knew he had gotten ahold of another bottle. Remus and Sirius were only slightly less motherly about, though only slightly. At least Remus and Sirius didn't go all red in the face and try to chew his ear off when they caught him like Molly. It was almost like having a mother again when she yelled at him.

The thoughts of mothers made him throw his head back and sigh, which in turn led to him hitting his head on the wall. Cursing the wall, it's maker, and everything else under the sun, Carter rubbed the back of his head gingerly before taking a third swig. He halfway wanted to blame mothers for his situation. _Her_ mother had been the one that became a Deatheater and in the end led to the result of his guilt but so had his own mother and... Tom's...

Carter's mother had died when he was only six, breaking his father's heart, which in five years led to his death as well. She had been too kind, too loving, too... too perfect of a mother for him and when she died everyone cried for her, broken-hearted at the lost of such a great witch. They hadn't cried quite as much at his father's funeral, but then again, his father had withdrawn from the Wizarding World after her death. He had been as good as dead for those five years to Carter and had at least had the decency of waiting until he started school before dying...

Well, that was dark. Was he getting moody? God, he was getting Tom's morbid sense of humor now!

That realization alone was worth two swigs.

And speaking of Tom, -and going back to mothers- why did his mother have to died? That wasn't very fair, especially since his father died at the same time... when he was six... Just like him... They had bonded over their mothers' deaths during their first year and when his father had died, Tom had been there.

"But you're not now," Carter whispered aloud.

He debated throwing the bottle at the wall. It wasn't fair! School, the Order, becoming Aurors, everything they had done they had done together. They had even caught the Lestranges and Crouch together! They were the same, they were partners, they were best friends! How had things gone so astray?

And yet Carter knew the answer to that question, at least, now he did. For the last fourteen years he had been wrong of course, but now he knew.

It hadn't been _her_ fault.

She had been the innocent one in the situation and Tom had saw that from the beginning. He had saved her when she was just a babe and had taken her away. He had also left him alone and Carter hadn't been alone since he was eleven. He did _not_ like being alone. Not at all. So he worked and blamed her for his loneliness. He hated her and through her, Tom.

Because he had left him.

The front door opened. Remus and Sirius had returned with their charges. Carter took another swig. He was going to go to his room. He couldn't see her right now, not after mooping about like a moody teenager... Wow he was getting snarky.

And then Kreacher practically tackled her right in front of him.

"Kreacher has missed mistress! Kreacher has missed mistress so much!"

Carter almost laughed at her face went from confused to complete enthusiasm in the second it took her to realize what had attached itself to her leg.

"Oh my god!" she shrieked and Carter cringed at the loud noise. "Sirius! Tell me we get to keep it!"

The loud cries of Walburga Black's portrait filled the air as she spun thee grouchy house elf around like a child would a new toy. It was rather amusing, especially considering she still hadn't noticed him leaning against the wall only a few paces away. Kreacher was protesting the whole time too, which did make Carter smile as Kreacher hated him more than he even hated Sirius.

And then the house elf had called her her mother's name and she had asked him if he knew her mother. Carter couldn't help but to answer her, finally revealing his presence to here as well.

"Of course he does. Kreacher has been serving the Black family for over forty years and your mother _is_ a Black."

She had stared at him. Her face had stayed neutral and she had simply stared at him. And Carter had hated every second her green eyes were on him because he could see her fighting back her hatred for him. He could see her trying to be civil, to ask questions first.

"Swine," she said impassively.

Her lack of emotion had thrown him for a loop and added fire to his growing anger he fought to keep under control. He wanted to yell at her, to demand she be angry with him, that she threaten him. He wanted her to curse him, to wish him a painful death, because he knew he deserved it and so did she.

"Lestrange," he said back neutral despite his anger. He took a swig of his firewhiskey and waited. He watched her and waited.

But she didn't speak or show any emotion. Instead, Kreacher spoke.

"Kreacher doesn't understand why he stares at Mistress Bellatrix's daughter like insect to be dissected," grumbled the house elf still in her arms. "She is Pureblood while he is swine. She is his better. He is worm to her."

Carter wanted to laugh at Kreacher's words. Never had he agreed with anything so much before in his life. She was his better in every way. She would always be there for her best friend while his best friend had left him _for_ her. Tom had raised her, had taken care of her, he loved her. He had been her first best friend and had willingly died for her while Carter had killed him. He had killed his first and only true friend... But she would never hurt her best friend like he had. She would never kill Harry like he had killed Tom. She was better, much better than him... and she deserved to know that...

"Perhaps so."

* * *

So, obviously this is in Swine's POV. I been meaning to give you all an idea of how he's thinking especially when he's drunk so this is it! I'm really thinking about doing another Swine one but including McPherson. It will be explaining why McPherson told Alexis Swine can't bake.

Tell me what you think!

Review!

DCF


	5. You Really Can't Bake

You Really Can't Bake

McPherson and Swine

Prequel

There was batter everywhere. It was on the ceiling, on the counter, on every cabinet, on the floor, on the window, and all over his clothes. It was in his hair, now making the usually brown ponytail a clumpy white, on his shoes and perhaps even on his wand - though Tom wasn't quite sure as he didn't even know where Carter's wand was at the moment. He wasn't even sure if Carter knew where his wand was. The grey eyed Londoner was all too focused on stirring his now practically empty bowl of rather thick looking batter for Tom to even consider asking him if he knew.

"Son of a... I'm following the directions... Martha Stewart's a lying..." Carter muttered to himself, making Tom smirk. He had no idea that he wasn't alone anymore. "Next year... fuck homemade shit..."

Tom's smirk widened to a grin as he leaned against the cleanest spot on the far wall that he could find. How Carter had gotten batter - and three splattered eggs - all the way over here he had no idea. How he had even made enough batter to cover their entire kitchen was another mystery.

"What the hell is wrong with this?" Carter asked himself aloud, looking up to the sky like he always did out of habit. Tom had always been confused by this action by his best friend and looked up as well just in time for a drop of batter that had somehow reached this far corner of the ceiling to fall on his cheek. He wiped the gunk - because now he wasn't even sure if batter was a good description from the thing Carter was stirring - off his face and returned to watching Carter bicker with himself.

"Fuck birthdays... Just screw them all... Screw you, Tom."

Tom smirked.

"What did I do?" he asked innocently.

Carter swore loudly, dropping the remains of the batter onto the floor. His wand- which, evidently had not been covered with batter like everything else in the room - was trained on Tom in a milo-second.

"God damn it, Tom!" Carter snapped angrily.

Tom let out a roar of laughter.

"Did I scare you?" he asked with the same mock innocent voice as before.

"I will kill you one of these days," Carter growled.

Tom chuckled again before rolling his eyes.

"Right, with your baking or the mess you make in your attempts to bake," he teased. He pointed his wand lazily at the wall and casted a cleaning spell. "Why were you baking anyways?"

"One," said Carter, pointing his own wand at the ceiling and casting a cleaning spell as well, "it's your birthday tomorrow and I was going to be nice-"

"Nice?" Tom asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Two, go to hell, Tom," continued Carter, unfazed by his best friend's words. "And three, we never use the kitchen so I thought, hmm, might as well."

"You make it sound like we're married," Tom chuckled. He teasingly pinched Carter's cheek and said in a horribly cheerful voice, "And my pwetty wife was making me a cake."

"I _will_ kill you," said Carter firmly, smacking Tom's hand away. He sighed before giving up on his baking and making the last of the batter disappear with a wave of his wand. He then smirked at Tom. "And then Sybil would kill me."

Tom frowned.

"Just because I'm nice to her-"

"Are you afraid of the commitment, Tom?" Carter teased.

"I'm not allowed to be afraid, Carter," Tom huffed.

"That's my line," said Carter, casting a final cleaning spell on himself.

"Well, maybe I'll steal it from you," countered Tom.

"Why not," muttered Carter, "you obviously stole my shirt already."

"I look better in it," said Tom, puffing out his chest.

"You are such a female."

"Hey, that's sexist, Carter."

"No it isn't. I'm pointing out a fact. You're acting like a female."

"Says the wife," Tom scoffed.

"If I'm the wife, it was only out of wedlock because I know for damn sure you didn't buy me a diamond ring."

"Oh, that's really- what is that smell?"

The oven began to beep loudly. Carter opened it, allowing a large cloud to escape it causing the smoke detector to go off.

"What," coughed Tom, "what on earth?"

"The cake's done," said Carter, retrieving a pan covered in something crispy and black.

"But what were you making earlier?" asked Tom, looking down at the thing in the pan anxiously.

"Cupcakes," muttered Carter.

Tom grinned. He threw his arm over Carter's shoulder and said, "You really can't bake."

Carter sighed in defeat.

"I know..."

* * *

So I really wanted to show some Carter Tom friendship fluff because I love the two of them so much! I also thought that this oneshot would give you an idea of just how close they were before Hex. They had a very Watson/Holmes relationship except their both equal in intelligence. Plus, I couldn't resist making fun of Carter's cooking skill. I plan on making another oneshot soon but it will probably be Hex and McPherson!

Please Review and I'll respond!

DCF


	6. Fathers' Day

Fathers' Day

Rodolphus Lestrange, Severus Snape, Tom M. Riddle/Voldemort, Barty Crouch Jr., Remus Lupin POV

Overview

A special treat I've been working on for this day, this oneshot consist of five candidates for Alexis's father role view on being a dad/Alexis overall. It is based on the top five on the poll and will go in order of who you all think Hex's father is from least to most. This does not mean in anyway that the poll has decided who Hex's father is (as I did that myself long ago) but is simply a bittersweet treat that will keep you on your toes. Also, a bit of a time leap as Rodolphus's takes place after the prison breakout. The other four take place in scenes from either the fifth or fourth book that have already happened.

Enjoy!

* * *

5\. Rodolphus Lestrange

If it were his choice, he would name her Josobelle. It was a strong name, a pure name, and the perfect name for his baby girl. Not that it was his choice though, he had married a Black, which included allowing his wife to name their child.

Rodolphus looked down at the newspaper clipping once more, his hands once strong now looking boney and weak as he held the photo almost gingerly. It was strange, having his first look of his daughter be through a photograph in the _Daily Prophet_ and even stranger knowing the photo was over three years old. He had missed so much in Azkaban, even the birth of his child only a cell over. And now, fifteen years later he gets too see that child for the first time two years before she becomes a legal witch. That was a low blow even he had to sneer at, despite his best attempts not to.

Carefully, Rodolphus examined the photo in his hands, watching with a scrupulous gaze so that he could catch every detail. A nearly twelve year old Josobelle, for he would not call her that Muggle name and his wife had yet to announce her true one, was standing awkwardly for the photo along with two boys and an overdressed blonde man who seemed to be discreetly holding the three children still with his arms. The man he was not familiar with but both boys he knew. The blonde boy Rodolphus easily recognized as his nephew Draco while the green eyed carbon copy of James Potter had him fighting back another sneer. If what he was told was true, then these two boys were his daughter's best friends.

He looked back at his daughter and took in her familiar features. Looking almost identical to his wife the last time he saw her in Hogwarts her third year, he was a bit surprised to realize that Josobelle had yet to have even turn twelve when the photo was taken. Though small, his little girl already look older than she truly was. Her hair was just as wavy and black as her mother's but her eyes... Her eyes had him smiling.

Rodolphus wasn't a fool. He knew he wasn't the only one that could be his Josobelle's biological father but he _was_ her father either way. As a Pureblood she was his child no matter what but as a Lestrange she was his family and family to a Lestrange was everything, blood or no blood. Not that he didn't have a chance at being her real father - oh, he most certainly had a chance - and her eyes only further proved that. The eyes the color of death. They were a family trait after all, one that very few Lestranges didn't have, and it was clear as day that Josobelle's eyes were the same color as his own.

Cautiously, Rodolphus let a smile slide onto his face. He wasn't one for being much other than stoic after he learned to control his temper but he allowed himself this one pleasure. After all, he hadn't smiled since before Azkaban and the thought of being a father moved him so. He remembered what his wife had said, before they had attacked the Longbottom's Manor, that she had something to tell him later. He could only assume this beautiful girl was her secret to share, that he would be a father and now, after fifteen long years, he could be.

Carefully, Rodolphus placed the photograph down on the table to his left before standing up. He moved towards the desk littered with more newspaper clippings all about his child. However, what he found made his smile quickly slip.

Apparently, his first role as father was to kill a lot of boys.

* * *

4\. Severus Snape

If anyone could get around an Unbreakable Vow it would be, and was, Albus Dumbledore. Not that it did Severus any good. He couldn't exactly act on the new discovery nor would he know how if he could. After all, he hadn't had the best role model growing up to know how father's should act.

Not that he was a father, he couldn't be sure anyways, but the chances were still there and were high at that. When he had first met Alexis he had found it easy to believe she was anyone else's. They didn't look alike and they certainly didn't act alike. She was definition Gryffindor and he Slytherin. She was loud and wore her heart on her sleeve while he was quite and nearly stoic.

But eventually he began noticing they're similarities. Her eyes were green like his mother's and her hair had a certain shine to it identical to his own. She was a knack at potions just like he was, so much so that he had the Headmaster change her entire schedule just so that he had her in advance classes. And lastly, her skills as a Legminens were equal with his own though her Occlumency needed severe work.

Severus watched carefully from the corner of his eye as the girl went to work on her Wolfsbane Potion, taking it upon herself to tweak the actual directions with her own recipe for the thing. She was almost unnaturally graceful around her cauldron and watching her made him have to force his usual sneer onto his face. He would not show favoritism. He would not let her become a weakness or a weapon to be used against him.

He wonder if perhaps there was another way to clear his conscious of his crimes. After all, he never loved Bellatrix, not like the fool Barty did, nor had he been her husband. He had loved Lily. He still loved Lily. His actions with Bellatrix had been solely out of his desire to feel and justify his crimes but it had only resulted in more evil deeds. Now Lily was dead and the girl who could very well be his daughter was growing up unsure with who she was supposed to be. He didn't know how to help her and couldn't even if he did. That's why he stayed away. That's why he showed her no favoritism.

"Here you go, Professor," she said to him, handing him a finished vial of her work. It was perfect, as he had expected, and she seemed to be waiting for him to acknowledge it as such as she rocked back and forth on her heels in front of him.

"Is there something you need, Miss Lestrange?" he asked after pocketing the potion without so much as a second glance.

"My grade," she answered in a fashion far too much like her mother. Severus had even been waiting for her to add a 'duh' at the end of her words.

"Miss Lestrange, if you had not received an O on this potion, not only would you have known it but I more than likely would have had your N.E.W.T. in Potions stripped away from your record officially," he replied in a stern drawl but the girl remained unfazed by him.

"See?" she said with a wild, Black family grin. "Was telling me that so hard? Now admit I'm your favorite student."

He only took away five points for her cheek. Perhaps he would allow a little favoritism.

* * *

3\. Tom M. Riddle/Voldemort

Tom Riddle loved no one but himself. He will always only love himself, but Tom Riddle is still a man, despite his attempts at denying it, and every man has needs. Bella willingly satisfied those needs of course as the faithful follower she was. He wasn't looking for love, he never will look for love because he loves himself, and he wasn't surprised that neither was Bella. That was why she was his favorite because he had seen into her heart and claimed it as his own.

But Tom Riddle loved no one but himself. He will always only love himself, and Bella would remain his faithful, if not eccentric, follower, but nothing more. Even the dear girl in his arms that he spun with a laugh would not change this relationship but she may very well change his plans.

The daughter of a faithful - to him anyways - Pureblood witch, and perhaps she was even his own daughter, makes a powerful pawn in the game of life. Especially if that dear girl was already deeply rooted in the light side's trust. A sliver of corruption was all it would take to have her as his own and Tom Riddle knew this wholeheartedly, which is why he laughed as he spun the dear girl in their first embrace in his new body. It would be days before he discovered it was not their first embrace.

Lucius had given the girl his diary and although it had failed to bring him back it had not been a total failure. His younger self had taken a strong liking to her, noticing right away her talents and potential. He had gained her trust easily, and with it had planted the seed to her corruption that Barty had spent the year watering and watching grow. Oh yes, the dear girl would a great asset to his victory and to Potter's downfall. Perhaps he would even grow to fond enough of the dear girl to let her call him father then but he would never love her.

Tom Riddle loved no one but himself. He will always only love himself, but the dear girl didn't need to know that.

* * *

2\. Barty Crouch Jr.

His little Bell looked so peaceful asleep. He had kept her that way longer than necessary because he had wanted to hold her with his own arms and not the arms of her precious _Al_ so he had waited until the potion had worn off to scoop her off the ground where he had made sure she had landed gently after he had obliverated and stunned her. His plan had been to move her to the couch before awakening her but as he held her in his arms he could not help but delay.

His little Bell was beautiful just like her mother and while asleep, with her green eyes covered by close eyelids, Barty could easily mistake her for his Bell. The way her head rested on his bicep, causing her hair to tickle his skin had him smiling fondly down at her. He loved her hair. It was so much like her Bell's.

Reluctantly, he made his way over to the couch. _Al_'s magical eyes swiveled on the ground around him and Barty knew he was being watched by the ex-Auror like a hawk watching its prey. He grinned wickedly at it and giggled dangerously before slowly lowering his little Bell down onto the couch. Barty knelt down beside her with one hand caressing her cheek while the other hand slowly ran through her hair. He loved her hair.

"My little Bell," he sang softly, unable to stop himself as he watch her sleep. Another insane giggle escaped him.

He wondered if she was dreaming. She had to be with how peaceful she looked. Asleep, his little Bell looked her true age, perhaps even younger. She looked so fragile to him, like a porcelain doll but he would protect her, he would always protect his little Bell.

"My sweet, little Bell," he sang again, brushing a few stray strands out of her face. He loved her hair. "My sweet, sweet, little Bell."

Barty kissed his daughter's forehead gently, running his hand through her hair one last time as he giggled. She had to be dreaming such wonderful dreams. Maybe she was dreaming about the day her family would finally be together and her mother and him would hold her in their arms, embracing her with all the love they had for her.

"Soon, little Bell," he sang softly in her ears as he leaned over her, his giggle slowly transforming into a chuckle.

His words made her stir. His little Bell reached out her hand and took his own. She breathed something, a single word. At first he had thought she had whispered a certain boy's name but no. It couldn't have been. His little Bell had said daddy, she had to have.

"Daddy love you too, dearie," he said, kissing her forehead once more before reluctantly releasing his hand from her grasp.

He took out his flask and drank the potion, annoyed that he had to once more be someone else around his little Bell. He reattached the magical blue eye and reconnected the metal leg to his stump. With a finally shake in response to the potion, he sat down at his desk just before his little Bell's eyes fluttered open.

"Had a nice nap?" Barty snorted.

His little Bell groaned.

"Shut up, Al."

* * *

1\. Remus Lupin

There were only a few things Remus knew for sure about Alexis. He knew her mother was Trix, the woman that he had loved but had died and now had a homicidal maniac living in her wake. He knew Tomas had saved and raised her to his best ability until the summer before her eleventh birthday. He knew her best friend was James's son, Harry. He knew he had to keep an eye on them, especially now that they were older and under Sirius's influence. He knew she loved the Eagles and her friends unconditionally. And he knew she and Carter would get along once hell froze over.

What Remus wasn't sure of, even more unsure than whether or not he was her father, was what Alexis and Nymphadora were talking about and why Alexis kept looking at him.

He wondered briefly and for a fearful moment, if the two were talking about his likelihood in being Alexis's father. Not that he was ashamed of the fact that he very well may be Alexis's father, oh no. Remus couldn't even be ashamed of his actions that resulted from him letting Trix get away anymore because of her. It was selfish, and he would be the first to admit it, but all the bad was easily canceled out whenever he saw her smile at him. No, his worry was more towards what Nymphadora would think of him and - oh, Merlin, Alexis was giggling.

She looked at him again, her green eyes shining with mirth from something Nymphadora had said. When he had been younger and before he had ruined such a great thing in his life, Remus had imagined that his daughter would one day look like Alexis did now, with her mother's features and his eyes. If she were his daughter though, it would explain why her cheekbones were lower than most Purebloods and why she was so short. His mother hadn't even made it to five foot, which is why he was enterally grateful he had inherited his father's tall frame.

Remus caught her frowning at him over Nymphadora's shoulder and it made his worries return. But Alexis's smile was quickly replaced with a grin and after a few words, Nymphadora responded to it with a loud, victorious "Yes!" that echoed through the room. Okay, now he had to find out what they were talking about and the oh so familiar grin Alexis sent him in response to his quizzical glance only confirmed that belief.

He made his way over quietly and stopped behind Nymphadora just as she spoke.

"I was more worried about me not being worthy of him," Nymphadora all but sighed. "He really is a great guy."

Remus couldn't fight back his smile. So that's why Alexis was smirking at him. What a little devil his daughter was, playing matchmaker. Oh, well. Might as well play the fool.

"Who's a really a great guy?"

* * *

So what did you all think? I hope this helps give you all an idea of the top five's view on Hex because each is pretty sure they're Hex's dad (no one as sure as Barty though) but also gives you an idea of how each character's mind works.

Now, There's a new poll on my profile for you all to vote on based on all the new and old hints pointing to who Hex's father is!

Please vote and please Review!

DCF


	7. Much Ado About Nothing

This is a co-written oneshot made by both myself and HazelVex, the creator of Avril. Both of us have uploaded this story on our accounts with only small -but important - differences.

* * *

Much Ado About Nothing

Avril Nott &amp; Carter Swine

Summer Before Alexis's First Year

* * *

Eight year old Avril Elladora Nott was not at all enjoying herself.

It was the last day of summer before her big brother would be sent off to Hogwarts without her and stead of spending the last day as a family, Avril's father made them all attend a Ministry funded ball instead. Avril hated Ministry funded anything as they always seemed to consist of people talking down to her, gossiping old witches, buttkissing Pureblood bigots, and boring Ministry work related conversations such as what measurement should be used in deciding a caudron's thickness. Usually the balls were at least made manageable by her big brother Theo keeping her company, but Theo had absentmindedly left her in favor of his own friends.

So now Avril, sitting quietly in her lovely blue dress with three-fourth sleeves and slightly puffy skirt topped with a white ribbon on her chest, had had enough.

Just as Madame Crabbe and Madame Longbottom were about to go at each other's throats over who had the better grandson, Avril let out a high pitched shriek in frustration that had the whole ballroom turning heads before she stormed out of the ballroom and onto the balcony. The night had a pleasant breeze that passed through her hair she was wearing down freely. She knew her action that had caused such a scene promised repercussions but she did not care. With one final groan in annoyance, Avril leaned against the balcony and rested her face in her folded arms.

"Rough night?"

Avril's head shot up and snapped to her left so fast she was almost certain she had gotten whiplash. She had thought she would be alone on the balcony but apparently she had been mistaken.

A man with long brown hair pulled into a ponytail sat in the far corner table, making it easy for him not to be noticed. He wore a more Muggle style dressing attire with a golden vest, a soft-to-the-touch looking white shirt, and black dress pants along with dragonhide boots. His eyes were a distant grey and when Avril looked back at him he was wearing a very sarcastic smirk.

Avril looked down at the man's hand and found a half empty bottle of firewhiskey occupying it.

"I could ask you the same thing," Avril replied when she looked back at the man's face. "Did they kick you out of the party?"

"Ouch," said the man still smirking. "Hurt me not, thou wicked child. I wasn't the one screeching like a banshee."

Avril bit back a giggle at the man's tone of mock hurt and sarcasm. She found him amusing and much less dull than the ball inside.

"Why are you speaking so weird?" she asked while taking an uninvited seat next to the man.

"I'm not," said the man dryly before taking a sip of his bottle.

"Yes you are," persisted Avril. "No one says thou anymore."

"There's nothing weird about saying -"

"Yes there is," cut off Avril and the man scowled.

"Shakespearean is not weird," he muttered defensively before putting his lips to the bottle again for a sip.

Avril cocked her head to the side.

"What's Shakespearean?" she asked and the man proceeded to spit out his drink along with a stream of hot smoke. He coughed viciously while trying to clear his throat.

"Do they literally teach you nothing?" he asked, sounding a bit more insulted than surprised. "William Shakespeare, _the_ William Shakespeare, you don't know him?"

"Is he a wizard or something?" Avril asked curiously.

"Or something," the man said sarcastically, a cool humorless chuckle escaping him. "He's the first Muggle to be immune to the Obliverating Charm and one of the few Muggles outside of government leaders and Halfbloods and Muggleborns' relatives to know about the Wizard World..." Then, if as an afterthought, he added, "He also wrote plays."

"And his own language?" Avril asked, intrigued.

"Apparently," the man muttered dryly to himself before looking at Avril. "Shouldn't you be inside?"

"Shouldn't you?" Avril countered.

"Fair enough, but must you bother a complete stranger?"

"We could be friends," Avril offered.

"Alas," sighed the man dramatically, "I do desire we may be better strangers instead."

Avril grinned.

"You spoke in that Shakespeare thing again, didn't you?" she asked. The man refused to answer. "Will you teach me?"

"No," said the man bluntly. "I don't know you, I don't want to know you, and I would very much appreciate it if you were to shove off. Now get."

Avril gave the a sharp look one would expect from a child not getting her way before suddenly smiling madly. It unnerved the man but not as much as when Avril started giggling.

"Nope," Avril said cheerfully as her giggles began to subside. "Because I'm Avril and your -"

She motions for the man to give his name but he makes no attempt to do so. It isn't until five minutes later in which Avril spent to whole time poking the man mercilessly in the arm did he answer.

"Carter," he grumbled making Avril smile wider. She continued exactly where she had left off minutes ago.

"- Carter and you're going to teach me Shakespearean so we can be friends."

Carter looked at Avril through narrowed grey eyes for a long time before abruptly shrugging his shoulders with a loud - and over exaggerated if you asked Avril - sigh.

"To hell with it," he said in mock defeat. "Fine, I'll teach you."

Avril let out a triumphant cry which included its own victorious fist pump while Carter merely finished his bottle of Firewhiskey in one long gulp.

"But we're not friends," Carter threw in when Avril began looking too excited for his liking. "You're like, six."

"Eight!" Avril shot back, defensively.

"Whatever," said Carter, waving his hand impatiently.

"Are you going to teach me Shakespeare or not?" Avril pouted, still irritated at being under-aged.

For a brief moment Carter simply stared at her with an impassive look before his grey eyes softened against his will. Running his finger over the mouth of the bottle absentmindedly, he said, "Romeo and Juliet..."

.

Carter officially felt peeved. The girl had made so much fuss for him to teach her and she goes ahead and falls asleep half-way through the explanation of the Tempest- and he was getting to some really good insults as well. As he watched her though, his expression softened slightly. She really was a damn cute kid and one, he was sure, had everyone wrapped round her little finger. He became so lost in his speculations that he barely realized when a boy of about eleven walked over.

The boy sighed. "There you are Avril," he said more to himself.  
Carter wondered how the hell he could have lost her considering how she made her exit to the balcony.  
"She's asleep," he said. "If you're wondering."  
The boy jumped and looked at him with the same frightening speed Avril had. "And you are?" he asked, recalling his composure.  
"Carter Swine. You?"  
"Theodore Nott," the boy said, walking over. "And I've come to reclaim my sister, so if you don't mind…"  
Theo went to pick her up, and half-asleep, she wrapped her legs around his middle and arms around his neck, whilst he just supported her underneath.  
"You abandoned me Theo," she said, her voice muffled by his robes. "It's okay though, I met a moody man who taught me Shakespeare."  
"Uh huh," Theo said, making to leave. "Night," he said to the man, who just gave a short wave as answer.  
"Bye, bye," Avril yawned, glancing his way.  
As the two left, Carter gave a faint smile at the eight year old's farewell. Yes, he thought, she definitely has everyone wrapped round her little finger. He scoffed, "God Carter, you're getting soft."  
Nott Sr, however, was getting anything but soft. As he waited, impatiently one might add, his temper grew thinner and thinner to the point where he had rehearsed his lecture for his daughter three times over. When his son finally did arrive, with the girl in question hanging off of his neck, he was ready.

Seeing the look on his father's face, Theo interrupted his opening mouth. "Father, she's tired and not going to take in a thing you say. Lecture her tomorrow if you must, just not now." And as an afterthought added, "Please?"  
Nott Sr growled quietly but relented. "Fine," he muttered. "Time to go anyway."  
Theo nodded and stepped into a nearby fireplace with a handful of floo powder. He, along with Avril, was gone in a roar of green flames. Their father followed and at long last, the night was over. For some at least. Back on the balcony, Carter Swine was opening a bottle of Firewhiskey, his thoughts bitter and dark. For him, the night was going to a long one. One he'd spend drunk. Avril had no idea just how much she'd distracted him.

* * *

oneshot to explain Avril and Swine's friendship as so many of you were curious about it.


	8. Complicated Describes Us Best

Complicated Describes Us Best

Harry Potter

And now the much needed, very delayed, POV of Harry on Alery!

Enjoy!

* * *

If he were to be completely honest with himself, he would admit to not having even an inkling of understanding as to how and why his relationship with Hex became so complicated. They were best friends, or, at least, they had been originally.

Harry shook his head from side to side. No, they were most definitely still best friends. It was now just... Complicated really did describe them the best and that Harry would admit very easily.

But why? He would ask himself that every now and again and still not figure out a straight answer. Sure, he'd think he understood, but then Hex would say something to him, or look at him a certain way, or smile, or lean her head on his shoulder while they relaxed in the Common Room and he would rest his head on hers and all he'd need to do was wrap his arm around her and...

_'Focus Harry_,' Harry scolded himself grimly. He found it ironic that he could even ask himself to do such a thing. After all, he was thinking about Hex and there was never a chance that he could focus when he did that.

It used to be easy, being best friends with Hex that is. They could talk about anything - they _did_ talk about anything - and they would do everything together. Yes, Hermione and Ron were with them most the time, but most the time wasn't all the time and Harry truly enjoyed the few moments at the beginning of their friendship when it was just him and Hex against the world... Okay, so he didn't exactly enjoy the fact that they were against the world, or at least some sort of dangerous threat (usually Voldemort), but he did enjoy the him and Hex part. But now he knew they both had secrets they weren't ready or willing to share.

Harry held back his sigh as he scanned the Room of Requirements, his eyes lingering on a few pairs of students every now and again. He was trying as best he could to stay focus but his mind was wondering back to Hex even as he watched his fellow D.A. members practice. Doing his best to examine Seamus and Dean's wand work so that he could help them if it was necessary, Harry couldn't stop himself from getting caught up in a flashback to third year.

He remembered, back when Ron was still alive, how all of the third year boys had stayed up late one night playing truth or dare. That night had been the night he had first admitted to anyone - including himself - he had more than amicable feelings for Hex. It had also been the night he realized just how obvious those feelings were to everyone besides himself and, _of course_, Hex.

Harry shook his head, a bitter smile playing on his lips as he started to remember more of third year. He had far too many memories from that year and very few of them were not awkward or tragic but if he were to list them in order, he would have to start with the first of many big brother talks he had been given.

Directly after perhaps the most embarrassing moment he had ever had in the presence of three-fourths of the Weasley family and Hermione - which was entirely Hex's fault due to her never ending obliviousness and lack of filter - Fred and George had pulled him aside. Actually, if Harry were to be completely honest again, the twins more or less tackled him into their room at the Leaky Cauldron, tied him to a chair, and stuffed a sock down his throat to keep him quiet.

"Now listen here, Harry," said George, or at least Harry had been fairly certain it had been George at the time.

"We like you, mate," said Fred, again Harry wasn't all too sure.

"We really do," continued George.

"We think you're a smashing Seeker and everything-"

"- but Fred and I, well -"

"- we think its high time we set, oh, what did we call them again, George?"

"Ground rules," answered George.

"Right," said Fred, nodding his head as if he just remembered. "Anyways, we're going to be setting some ground rules tonight, alright Potter?"

"Okay," Harry had said, or had at least tried to through the sock in his mouth.

"Good," said Fred before he and George both began pacing back and forth in front of Harry, changing up their directions so much that Harry quickly lost track of which one was which.

"Ground rule number one," said probably George (truthfully, Harry was guessing now). "We've known Hex just as long as you and have come to see her as a little sister, understand?"

"Which isn't really much of a ground rule," said Fred (again, still guessing) before Harry could ask probably George what he meant. "It's more like a ground statement, or a ground fact."

"Nonetheless," said George, who Harry was starting to think was actually Fred. "The point of the matter is that Hex is as much as our little sister as Ron... Although Ron's a boy."

"Or at least that's what him and mum say," mumbled maybe Fred.

"Anyways, Harry," said, well, one of the twins.

"What we're trying to say-" said the other.

"- is if you hurt Hex in any way -"

"- and we do mean any -"

"- we will channel all of our pranking power towards getting you back for her."

"Do we make ourselves clear?" the twins finished together in their creepy twin voice.

Harry remembered simply nodding his head yes as he had been unsure as to what else he was supposed to do in a situation like that. However, he realized only a few days later that he should have been taking notes because it wasn't long until he found himself in a similar situation once more.

"Hey, Harry," said Cedric, calling Harry before he made his way up the first few steps outside the Great Hall. It was only a week or so into the new school year. "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure, I suppose," Harry said, a little unsure. He and Cedric didn't exactly talk on a normal basis, which wasn't to say they hadn't liked each other. They just weren't anything more than amicable acquaintances.

"Great, because this is important," said Cedric, steering Harry away from the crowd of students heading to bed.

Harry wasn't exactly comfortable with Cedric's statement but he was even more uncomfortable when Cedric looked down at him in an imposing manner suited for a would-be Auror.

"Now, Harry," said Cedric in a stern voice that made Harry instantly think he was about to be scolded. "You know I'm a sixth year, right?"

Harry nodded his head slowly then. He remembered debating on whether or not to reach for his wand before Cedric continued.

"Good, so that also means that you know I have three years of advance magic over you which means that if I wanted to I could jinx you into next week and then some."

"Errr..."

"Not that I'm saying that I'm going to jinx you," continued Cedric as Harry shifted uncomfortably. "You have enough to worry about this year, with Black and all. I'm simply reminding you I can and that I will if you ever, in any way whatsoever, hurt Hex."

Harry sputtered, "Why would I-"

"Not finished," said Cedric, raising his hand in a manner that warned Harry to become silent immediately. "Look, Harry, girly's like a little sister to me and if you hurt her, the Azkaban escapee will be the last of your worries. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes?" Harry had asked more than said.

Once more, he hadn't realized why exactly he was being threatened. However, by the third time Harry had already accepted - as much as he could, that is - his feelings towards Hex. He hadn't, however, been prepared for the next person to talk to him on the matter to be his Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

"So have you asked her yet, Harry?" Remus asked casually late one October day after the class had cleared out and Harry had remained to help him clean up.

"Asked who what, professor?" replied Harry absentmindedly as he finally turned to pack his own bag.

"Miss Alexis to Hogsmeade," said Remus.

Before Harry knew it, he replied, "I would have if I were allowed to go."

Remus had grinned at him, looking as pleased as a spider catching a fly in his web and Harry played an excellent fly with the way he stammered in realization to what he had admitted aloud.

"I mean, I just was going to ask her as a friends," he stumbled. "Cause that's what we are - not that Hex isn't pretty or anything, she really is, but I'm her best friend-"

"Relax, Harry," Remus had said with a chuckle, "your father was as easy to read as you too. Just be sure you treat her properly. I'm good friends with her guardian and believe you me, he is not one you want coming after you."

Talk about understatement of the century. Harry had met Hex's guardian, the ex-Auror and master of paranoia the summer before their third year. However, he didn't even speak to Mad-Eye (the real one that is) until the end of his fourth year and Harry was quiet glad he didn't say much when he did. He highly doubted he could have survived another "talk".

Shuddering at the mere thought of what creative threats Mad-Eye would have had for him if such a talk was ever to take place, Harry continued his way around the room. His eyes fell on Hermione and Fred off in the corner. Against his will, his stomach twisted with jealousy.

If only it could be that easy with him and Hex. But Harry wasn't as wild as Fred and Hex, well, she most definitely wasn't even close to as observant as Hermione. Harry wanted to call it unfair that Hermione and Fred could be together when he and Hex couldn't but he knew that was childish.

And speaking of childish, Harry coughed to cover his blush as he remembered the letters Sirius sent him the summer before his fourth year. Despite being Hex's cousin, Sirius had been very supportive in Harry's feelings for Hex. In fact, the moment he returned to Privet Drive from King's Cross, he received three extra letters from Sirius. How the man could combine giving Harry both the coming of age talk, the Hex talk/threaten, and offer him advice in the situation would be a mystery to all, but Sirius had somehow managed to do it all while hiding out in the Weasley's attic. Harry would have been impressed had he not been downright mortified by all that the letters contained.

By fourth year, however, he had been ready to dedicate himself to winning Hex over and with the entire Weasley family, Hermione, Sirius, and Remus behind him, it was hard for Harry to think failure was an option. Of course, he should have remembered he was dealing with Hex. Nothing had been more frustrating than trying to express his feelings to Hex that year, not even facing a dragon. The obstacles that got in his way were almost comical when he listed them: a life-threatening tournament, a Bulgarian Quidditch Star, Hex's obliviousness, a sociopath disguised as a madman…

The list went on and on but the results were clear. Despite the fact that even Draco (who had made Harry swear to never tell a soul) had given his blessing, it had become obvious to Harry that Hex was happy with Krum and Hex only saw him as a best friend. And Harry, with only small hint of bitterness, had accepted it.

Or, at least, Harry had accepted it.

When he arrived at the Grimmuald Place already angry with everyone and everything, the last thing he needed to see was Hex snogging Krum. The moment he had, all of Harry's feelings for Hex had retaken control of his thoughts with a new kind of vengeance. He had decided, in a blur of anger and unexplained emotion, he was going to win Hex over from the Bulgarian.

He hadn't expected Cho to be so willing to help.

Looking at the sixth year Ravenclaw across the room, Harry found himself recalling how their strange – but still not as strange as his and Hex's – relationship began.

By pure chance he had ran into Cho in the Owlery. Her eyes had been puffy and red, and not for the first time did Harry find himself trapped in having to comfort a grief stricken girl. Only this time it wasn't Hex so he had no idea what he was doing… which was the only thing he could use to explain how the comforting session had ended with him and Cho snogging.

Harry had felt terribly guilty at that despite not knowing who had started kissing who. After all, he had been kissing Cho back while his mind had been focused purely on Hex but Cho had admitted to being in a similar state of mind only she couldn't stop thinking about Cedric. How that snog had led to Cho promising to help him win Hex over – and what it had to do with Cho owing Hex anything – would remain the biggest mystery of them all.

Looking down at his watch, Harry decided it was best he ended the lesson early today. Christmas, after all, was just around the corner and he wanted to make sure everyone had time to pack there things and prepare for the trip back home the next evening. He congratulated Nott on his successful Patronus and began to tidy up the room as everyone said their goodbyes and left, trying his very hardest not to grow frustrated while Zabini openly flirted with Hex. Luckily Harry caught sight of Cho by the memorial wall and hurried over to her.

"Did you enjoy class today?" Harry asked, trying his best to distract himself from the scene taking place only a few feet behind him.

Cho nodded her head softly but her eyes never left the wall. Harry noticed, with a heavy heart, that she was staring the photo of Cedric donning his TriWizard Tournament uniform.

"You're a good teacher, Harry," whispered Cho quietly. "I just wonder… I wonder if Cedric… if he had known the things that you're teaching us, would he still…."

"Cedric knew all of these spells," said Harry quickly. He had grown accustomed to speaking quickly around Cho in order to keep her from crying. "He was an amazing wizard, far better than I am at the very least, but he was attacked by a coward when his back was turned."

Unsure as what to say next, as his last words did not draw Cho away from staring at the photo of the forever seventeen year old wizard, Harry awkwardly looked around the room. Everyone else had already left and it was now just him and Cho in the Room of Requirements.

"You know, Hex always talked about how Cedric was going to make an amazing Auror," said Harry, still unsure as what he needed to say.

Cho choked a bitter laugh.

"He would have been amazing, yes," she said before finally looking away from the photo and towards Harry instead. "He was always happy too, just like Hex. The two of them were always happy. Why can't we be happy too?"

"Err, we can?" Harry answered hesitantly.

"Not like them though," said Cho softly. "I was only ever happy when Cedric was around. When I knew he was thinking about me- that made me happy. It also made me insanely jealous of Hex whenever I thought that even for a second she would be taking Cedric away from. And you, you're the same way. Hex is what makes you happy just like Cedric is what made me happy. But…"

Cho's voice broke off, she looked down at the floor between her and Harry while Harry pondered what he was supposed to do.

"I'm sick of being heartbroken, Harry," said Cho, leaving her gaze on the floor. "I don't want to hurt anymore, to have my happiness based off of one person's opinion of me especially if that person can never…"

There was another silence, only this time Harry was able to find his words.

"You really miss him, don't you?" he asked, placing a tentative hand on Cho's shoulder.

"I was in love - no," said Cho, "I still am in love with him as much as you love Hex."

Harry huffed sadly.

"At least he loved you back," he said before instantly regretting how pitiful he sounded with his words.

Cho, whose dark eyes were now glistening with tears, looked up at Harry with a trembling lip halfway pulled into a sad smile.

"We can't have the people we want," she said softly, he head leaning on Harry's shoulder as he subconsciously pulled her into an embrace. "But at least we're not alone. At least we have each other… I have you."

And like that, Harry found himself kissing the sixth year Ravenclaw in their usual peculiar form of comfort. His mind was still focused solely on Hex and he was sure Cho's mind was still focused on Cedric as it always was, but something about this kiss was different. He felt a strange form of joy with this kiss, starting from his head and pouring down all through his body. Harry thought that perhaps there was a chance that maybe, one day, there was a chance he could forget his feelings for Hex, that perhaps this strange feeling of joy was his mind telling him that Cho was… well, Harry wasn't quite sure what she was but he very much enjoyed the good feeling running through his body even long after he whispered goodnight to Cho and made his way back to the Gryffindor Tower. He was still grinning like an idiot when he tossed himself on the couch.

It took Harry a moment, in his happy daze, to even realize Hex had waited for him to return.

"Everyone else already in bed?" he asked carelessly, smiling up at the ceiling.

Hex had replied with a short yes that Harry didn't even realize was full of malice until he caught her glaring at him from her seat by the fire.

"Something wrong?" he asked, the smile on his face never failing despite the growing rage on Hex's face. To be honest, Hex's anger only seemed to enhance his mood. _See how she likes being ignore_, Harry thought smugly to himself.

"You're an idiot," stated Hex bluntly.

Harry only grew more amused.

"I'm a what?"

"You are an idiot," Hex stated once more before adding, "Do you really think that was a good idea?"

It hit Harry like Bludger to the head right then that Hex had not only seen him kissing Cho but was actually jealous because of it. He felt a sudden amount of relief and victory wash over him knowing now, after two years of trying, he had finally succeeded in discovering Hex's feelings for him to be more than amicable. He wanted to shout for joy, to confess his feelings for her then and there, but he didn't. His reason, the new joy inside him, the unexplainable feeling of happiness, seemed to be thriving on the anger Hex was directing towards him. And Harry had an unnatural desire to feed this strange joy.

"Think what was a good idea?" he asked with mock innocence, his smile growing as Hex's irritation rose.

"You know what," she snapped.

"No, I actually don't. You're the mind reader, not me," he said with a chuckle that didn't exactly sound like his own. However, Harry ignored this strangeness as his joy seemed to grow at Hex's admitting to seeing him and Cho kissing.

Harry started to tease Hex, mocking her with her own words, accusing her of being jealous. He forgot how dangerous that was to do until she made him angry with her accusation that they weren't close. His joy suddenly turned to righteous anger. He enjoyed yelling at her. He thought maybe if he yelled loud enough he could get it through her head that being best friends with her seemed almost impossible when all he wanted was more.

But it his rage only intensified hers. Hex fought him, tooth and nail, refusing to see his side. Her lies, her denial, it all fueled his anger, making his vision red. Words left his lips he had never wanted to say to her. Harry accused her and Hex defended herself just as quickly, throwing his words in his face with her obliviousness to what she should have seen like everyone else…

And then Hex pushed the line.

"We're best friends!" she had hissed. "We're supposed to do everything together, Harry. Everything!"

He had frozen in his yelling only to muttered, "Not everything."

"Yes, everything," Hex had said. "Everything, no matter what. Together. We. Do. Everyth-"

He didn't know how he moved from his place on the couch to in front of her, but in a blur of motion he found himself leering over in the chair she had fallen back into in surprise. Hex looked up at him, her eyes filled in a look of horror Harry had never seen before. His joy had reached new levels with the fear he saw in her green eyes.

"Look at me!" Harry snapped, grabbing Hex's chin when she dared to look away from him with his terror filled eyes. He didn't know why but her fear thrilled him and the fact that she dared look away… "You're wrong!"

A new emotion took over Hex's face with his last words, one he enjoyed far more than any look of fear she had sent him before. There was a look of loathing gracing her pale aristocratic face, utter loathing and hatred. The back of his mind screamed in rage against the pleasure he felt knowing Hex hated him now but the joy he had let in, the unnatural emotion was overpowering it. His body suddenly felt at battle with his emotions.

"No, you're wrong," Hex spat at him, sending him a daggered look. "If we're such great friends, if we really are best friends, then there's nothing we can't do together. Nothing."

It was the final straw. Harry couldn't stop himself, not after Hex had all but dared him to do it. He pulled her to her feet far rougher than he should have and pinned her against him while his hand gripped her neck tightly.

Hex sneered at him before baring her teeth. Harry knew that she wanted nothing more than to hurt him but he wasn't finished.

"If you insist," he growled in a low voice he wouldn't even have called his own had in not left his lips. The voice frightened him so much that Harry felt as if he had suddenly been woken up in the middle of the night to a banshee's wail. He couldn't remember why he was standing there, his body pressed against Hex's whom he held so closely in his arms.

"Harry," said Hex, fear laced in her voice.

Harry heard the fear, the sudden unsureness in his best friend's tone and finally lost his grip on control. He wasn't angry anymore, he wasn't sure what he was if he was completely honest. All Harry knew was that Hex was in front of him, tightly snuggled in his embrace.

So he kissed her.

Harry kissed her with everything he had. He wanted her to understand that he cared so much for her, that he wanted nothing more than her in his life and he was willing to be selfish over her and her alone, the rest of the world be damned…

And then he realized he kissed her.

Harry jumped back, unable to believe he had finally done what he had wanted to do for the last three years. It was wrong, he knew it was wrong, but for some reason he hadn't been able to control himself and now he had ruined everything.

"Hex," he started, out of breath and unsure as what to say to save his friendship. "I'm so sorry - I didn't - I don't know why I - Hex, I-"

His rambling was cut off when Hex grabbed him by his unloosened tie, and pulled him forward towards her. Her lip twitched towards a smile before she spoke.

"Shut the hell up, Harry."

And then, to Harry's great surprise, Alexis 'doesn't-have-a-middle-name-as-far-as-she-knows' Lestrange, kissed him.

* * *

And now we have the Alery relationship in Harry's POV officially written and done with. And so are all of my exams save for German which I'm gonna probably fail. Positive thoughts though, at least Harry thinks English.

Note: I know that Harry's emotions seem to be a bit wacky but its all Voldemort's fault. Harry's emotions enhance whenever Voldemort is being emotional. Strong emotion from one equals strong emotion from the other (though not always the same emotion).

Hope this oneshot answers any questions we have on Harry's though process, his relationship with Cho, and how certain men in Hex's life handled Harry over the years.

Please Review!

DCF


	9. The Choice Is Yours, Ginger

Completed

The Choice Is Yours, Ginger

Ron Weasley

Waking Up After Death

So I've been really wanting to make a one-shot about the little voices in Hex's head and now I finally have. There are still a few unanswered questions of course, but this one-shot will hopefully give ya'll an idea as to what goes down after death and why Hex has voices in her head in the first place. Everyone say thank you, Tom!

Enjoy!

* * *

Ron remembered seeing a bright green light and then - nothing. He remembered nothing. The next thing he knew, his eyes were opening up to reveal a whitewashed ceiling. He was laying on an old, blue, leather couch and as he slowly sat himself up, Ron realized he wasn't in the same clothes he had been wearing before. Instead he was in his newest homemade Weasley sweater and his favorite pants with the ink stain on his left knee. He continued to look around only to blink at what he saw.

There was a man, with light brown hair just barely covering his beautiful blue eyes, wearing Muggle jeans and a blue T-shirt under an unbuttoned, white button up with its sleeves rolled up to reveal a moving Chimera tattooed on his arm, sitting beside him. He was watching Ron with a curious and amused look.

"Err, who are you?" Ron asked nervously. The man smiled.

"My name is Tomas McPherson," said the man, getting straight to the point. "I'm Hex's late guardian."

Ron blinked, his mouth hanging open a bit.

"But Hex said you died!" Ron finally said. McPherson smiled again only sadly.

"I did," he said. "And so did you. That's why you're here."

"I'm where exactly?" asked Ron, looking around again. To him, he seem to be inside a cozy living room with a stone fireplace taking up the opposing wall from him. On the left there was an archway lit with light too bright for him to see into the next room and on the right was a small staircase with large wooden bookshelf underneath it filled with books and knick-knacks. A strange contraption with a giant black disc sat upon the coffee table along with a radio and several more black disc labeled things such as the Eagles and the name Bryan Adams and even stranger labels such as Black Sabbath and the Who.

'The Who what?' Ron wondered before looking up at McPherson again.

"That's a bit of a tough question," said McPherson, chuckling. "This is, in a sense, Hex's subconsciousness."

"But if I'm dead, why am I here?" asked Ron, looking as confused as he felt.

"Long story short," said McPherson, "a part of you is still around, but not really. Just like me."

"But that doesn't explain-"

"I'm getting to it, ginger," cut in McPherson.

Ron scowled, not at all liking the name McPherson had called him. He crossed his arms and waited for McPherson to continue.

"I made a spell a few years ago," explained McPherson. "The one Hex showed you, with the incantation of amo tu, and I taught it to Hex. Unfortunately, I didn't know all of its effects as it was still in testing."

"So you taught it to Hex?" asked Ron in disbelief.

McPherson waved his hand dismissively.

"Believe me, it isn't even close to the most irresponsible thing I've ever done," he stated, shaking his head. "The point of the matter is, I made a spell, Hex used it on you, and it had an unknown effect. That's why you're here."

"And why exactly did you even make this spell in the first place?" asked Ron.

"Picture this, ginger," said McPherson and once more Ron scowled. "You've just turned twenty years of age when suddenly you're responsible for the life and safety of a new born babe your own country wants killed. So you flee the motherland to the States and decide to raise said child on your own. You think you can handle it, after all, you helped your uncle raise his daughter after his wife died, but. You. Are. Sorely. Mistaken. Children need constant care and comfort and sometimes you need to comfort someone while you need to also run inside for the burn kit... Again. You get it know, ginger?"

"I suppose so," answered Ron, although now he was more curious about what Hex had done that involved needing a burn potion. He then remembered her nickname was Hex for a reason. "So, does that mean I'm stuck inside Hex's subconsciousness forever?"

"No," said McPherson. He points over his shoulder at the archway with the bright light. "See that? That's your one way ticket to the afterlife. My spell leaves a tiny strand, no more than the voice of you, with Hex but it's your choice if you stay or not."

"But why would I stay?" asked Ron.

"How would I know why you would stay?" asked McPherson calmly. "Sure, I could argue with you why you should or shouldn't but it is up to you. Why will you stay or why will you go are up to you."

Ron shifted, surprised by the fact McPherson was making no argument on either side. He stood up and walked towards the glowing archway. He stared into it for a few moments, his mind swirling. He hadn't paid much thought to the afterlife, after all he was fourteen, but now that it stood before him it invaded all of him. Mum's brothers were there already, perhaps even waiting for him. He knew Uncle Bilius was at least. Maybe he could meet Harry's parents now, see if Harry was anything like his father and all. That of course would be depending on what the afterlife was like.

"Why didn't you go through?" Ron asked, slowly looking away from the bright light. "Why didn't you move on? Hex said your only remaining relative was Mad-Eye. Err, that was a bit insensitive, wasn't it?"

McPherson smirked.

"A bit, yeah," he said. He stood up from his chair but instead of approaching Ron he headed over to the grand bookcase on the opposing wall. Without looking back at Ron, he said, "But you're right. I do have relatives waiting for me just like you."

"So why are you here?" asked Ron.

"Because Hex needs me," he said calmly as his fingers brushed across the top of a row of books. "Because when it was my time to decide I couldn't have left her how she was. Because she'd be dead if I had, or at least there was a chance that she might be. Because..." McPherson paused on his running over the shelf when he reached a photograph in a silver frame. "Because I was afraid."

Ron watched, unsure on what to do as McPherson turned towards him with the photograph still in his hands. It wasn't of anything special, just a photo of a younger Hex covered in soot, a surprised expression etched on her face as she stared down at the wand in her hand that was still smoking.

"Afraid of what?" Ron asked meekly.

"What I said before," said McPherson, still looking fondly at the photograph. "I was afraid of what would happen. It all comes down to that, honestly," he said, looking up at Ron. "I want Hex safe and I can't even try to make sure that happens in the afterlife. Sure, I could watch, but no helping. I can't console her there, reminder who she is and not what people want her to be. I'd be useless to her and I was afraid of being that because it would mean I failed her."

McPherson placed the photograph back where it belonged before continuing.

"And I don't like failing people," he said in a slightly - though Ron didn't think it was much - cheerful voice. "Did that once and I'll be damned if I do it again. So I'm still here. Now, why are you still here?"

Ron, taken by surprise by McPherson's sudden question, fumbled a bit. Why was he still here? He looked back at the brightly lit archway. He could go if he wanted to. He could see his passed loved ones and friends.

"Because Hex is my friend," Ron said, looking away from the archway. "And I don't want to say goodbye just yet."

McPherson actually blinked in pleasant surprise.

"If you stay, you won't be able to leave for a very long time," he warned.

"Well, I got all the bloody time in the world," said Ron. "Sticking around a bit longer can't hurt."

McPherson actually smirked.

"Then I suppose there's only one thing left to do," he said.

"And what's that?" asked Ron.

"Wake Hex up," said McPherson simply. "Care to do the honors? Its best we let her know you're here as soon as possible to get the shock over with."

"Is that how that works?" Ron asked doubtfully.

"Oh just wake her up, ginger," bemoaned McPherson.

Ron, ignoring McPherson's rude ginger comment, did just that.

"_Wake up, Hex…_"

* * *

DCF


	10. Happy Tom Day

Tom Day

Tomas McPherson &amp; Alexis Lestrange

Early Years of Hex's Childhood

* * *

June 15, 1986

Tom McPherson was sprawled across the old, blue, leather couch in the living room fast asleep. It was only midday, but Alexis had successfully worn him out in her attempts to escape her bath that morning. Tired and worn out, the exhausted twenty-five-year-old had passed out in a heap all the while wondering why on earth he had thought raising a child by himself was a good idea.

Suddenly, the blue-eyed man snapped up, fully awake. It was far too quiet in the house, which in turn meant Alexis was far too quiet, and that was never a good thing.

"Hex!" he called hurrying upstairs where he had last seen the trouble-magnet of a child.

It wasn't a big second floor - seeing as it only consisted of his room, Alexis's room, and a water closet - but he searched it thoroughly for the little tike. Beds were searched under, closets were torn apart, windows - having remembered Alexis's phase last fall of trying to get on the roof - were thrown open, and roofs were thoroughly examined. But still, no Alexis was found.

Hurrying down the wooden stairs with more speed and intensity than a single Auror training excises, Tom came to a screeching halt at the sight of Alexis's favorite red blanket thrown haphazardly across the record player. Tilting his head to the side, he realized Alexis must have given it to him while he was asleep. It must have landed there when he woke up.

"Tom?" asked a small voice.

A little Alexis, with her head tilted in an eerily similar way to Tom's, was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Her hands were full of crayons and markers.

"Hex," breathed Tom, relieved. He picked up the little girl and hugged her. "Where were you?"

"Da kitchen," said Alexis simply, clearly not understanding the panic Tom had just gone through. "I was colorin'."

The smile on Alexis's face made it so much easier not to be mad at her but Tom forced himself to remember he was the acting adult right now and not the goofy cousin.

"Why didn't you answer me when I called you then?" he asked, carrying the green eyed girl into the kitchen.

"I did!" cried Alexis happily. "But yous run upstairs. I was colorin'. Wanna see?"

"Of course, Hex," said Tom, putting Alexis down so she could hurry to her artwork. However, he soon became distracted by the slightly burnt calendar on the ground.

"Hex?"

Alexis looked up at him from her spot at the kitchen table.

"Yes, Tom?" she said sweetly.

"Why is the calendar half burnt and laying on the ground?" asked Tom, strongly debating on if he actually wanted to know.

"It was wrong," said Alexis with a huff and a sneer - which was rather adorable - towards the calendar.

"You can't just burn things because you disagree with it, Hex," sighed Tom, picking up the calendar. He looked up to find Alexis wearing her thinking face, a clear giveaway that he had said a big word she didn't know yet. "Disagree means is like finding something wrong with what someone else says."

"But it is wrong!" shouted Alexis, slamming a crayon into her artwork. "It say today Father's Day."

"Hex, it is Father's Day," said Tom patiently.

"But why is dere no Tom Day?" asked Alexis. "Tom Day more important!"

"Tom Day?" asked Tom dubiously.

Smiling widely, Alexis lifted up her artwork in response. Tom had to get a closer look to make it out as Alexis was not at all what he would call an artist even for her age. But sure enough, when he flipped the picture upside down, Tom could make out Alexis's work.

At the top and written in every color of crayon they owned, were the words Happy Tom Day. Both Y's were backwards and it looked as if Alexis had just barely stopped herself from adding another leg to the M in Tom but the words were only half the work. Underneath were three stick figures holding hands. The center one was clearly supposed to be Alexis as it had black crayon lines sticking out everywhere from the figure's head for hair and large green dots for eyes. To the Alexis stick figure's left and with an equally crooked, curved line for a smile, was a brown 'haired', blue dotted eyed stick figure, which was undoubtedly supposed to be Tom. To the right was a figure with brown lines for hair as well and, to Tom's surprise, silver dotted eyes.

"Do you like it?" asked Alexis, impatiently. She started pointing all over the picture. "That's me, and dat's you, and that's your best friend."

"My what?" asked Tom.

"Best friend," repeated Alexis with a large smile. "One day, I'll find him and bring him here and he can celebrate Tom Day with us!"

"Alexis," said Tom and Alexis's eyes widened. She was convinced Tom only ever called her Alexis when she was in trouble, which was usually true.

"Wha I do?" asked Alexis.

"Nothing, Hex," said Tom hastily. He cleared his throat. "But, I just need you to understand, my best friend, he - well - you'll never be able to find him. He's very far away and doesn't know where -"

"Tom, why are you crying?" asked Alexis.

"Because your art skills are atrocious," said Tom. He let out a strangled chuckle at the miffed face Alexis made in response.

"No more Tom Day," huffed Alexis, going to grab her artwork only for Tom to snatch it up with one hand and her in other.

"No, I like it," said Tom before hooking it to the fridge with a magnet. "Thanks, Hex."

Once more, Alexis smiled happily and hugged Tom's neck.

"Does dis mean we can get a pet dragon?" she asked as the two left the kitchen and picture behind them. Tom rolled his eyes in response.

* * *

June 16, 1991

Carter took to the kitchen under the pretense of looking for clues. In all honesty, it was to keep himself from feeling guilty. After all, he shouldn't feel guilty about following orders. This was what was supposed to happen to traitors and Tom had been the worst of them all in Carter's book.

Of course, then he had seen the atrocious piece of work on the fridge, held up by a magnet.

"Tom Day," Carter muttered aloud. "And I had the ego."

Carter pulled the paper out from under the magnet. He had planned on crumpling it up and throwing it away - as it really was offensive to the eye with how awful it was - when he noticed words written in pencil . The words had been covered by the magnet before but there was no overlooking them now.

_She wanted to meet you. _

There was no signature but Carter didn't need one to know who the message was from. He was all too familiar with this handwriting.

"Find anything?" asked John as he entered the kitchen, speaking to Dolores. "The upstairs only had one room and it clearly only belonged to Pherson. No sign at all that the girl ever even stepped foot in this place."

"I found nothing that suggested differently outside, either," said Dolores, clearly not liking the fact that she had turned up empty handed. "What about you, Carter?"

Carter could feel the Notice Me Not Enchantment fading. It was sneaky magic, barely visible in the air, but he knew what he was looking for, which only made it that much easier to find. The door upstairs, behind the couch, photos on the bookshelf - any minute now their enchantments would fade without Tom to reactivate them and whatever, _whoever,_ was hiding would be revealed.

"Carter," said John impatiently. "Anything?"

Carter stuffed the paper into his pocket before burning it to ash.

"Nothing."

* * *

Please Review!

DCF


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